


Making it All Better

by Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)



Series: The Lady Herald and Her Lion [16]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Caretaking, F/M, Fluff, References to Illness, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11333955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria
Summary: Inquisitor Trevelyan has fallen ill, and while bedridden, her friends and close acquaintances come by to check on her. Sera tries to cheer her up, and Cullen plays an unwitting part in her plan.





	Making it All Better

“ _Ah…atchoo!”_

Verana bounced a little as she sneezed loudly into her handkerchief, her eyes watering even more profusely than they already were from the sheer strength of it.

 _Maker, why did this have to happen to me_ now _?_

She sat up in her bed, still dressed in her nightgown, her hair a matted mess of black tangles. She sniffled weakly, unable to get much air through her nose at all, and was forced to continue breathing through her mouth, an action that had chapped her lips nearly raw over the course of the past two days. She was feverish, exhausted, her head pounding and her eyes constantly welling up.

In short, Lady Inquisitor Trevelyan was miserable.

The healers had said it was just a common ailment and would pass in a week or so. Unfortunately, that was not nearly fast enough to suit her. She had things to do – reports to catch up on, letters to write, orders to distribute – but between her watering eyes, her dripping nose, and her heavy head, she couldn’t even think, much less read anything. She was jittery, even sick, from the desire to _do_ something other than lie up in her bed like an invalid, but her body just wouldn’t let her.

She had amused herself for a while with old childhood tricks she had learned: letting tiny sparks of electricity arc from finger to finger, puffing out breaths of moisture and shaping them into tiny animals, tying the bed curtain tassels into knots at a distance. But these things had only eased her boredom for a short time. She knew she should be sleeping frequently to help throw off this illness, but her restlessness prevented her from doing so. Whenever she slid back under the blankets, she would just toss and turn over and over again, her thoughts all a-flurry with the endless list of things she _should_ be doing.

Suddenly, she heard her chamber door creak open, then closed, and light footsteps followed. Curious, she turned her head towards the banister and was a bit surprised when she saw Mother Giselle’s hat ascend up the stairwell. The priestess smiled gently upon seeing Verana, and the Inquisitor noticed she held a small pot in her hands.

“How fare you, Lady Inquisitor?” she asked, tilting her head forward in greeting as she stopped a few paces from the bed.

Verana swallowed and answered thickly, “I’m alive.”

Mother Giselle’s smile widened. “That is most certainly a good thing,” she remarked, “and it is also good to see this small bout of sickness hasn’t robbed you of your sense of humor.”

“It certainly doesn’t _feel_ small,” Verana replied.

“I understand,” the priestess moved forward and proffered the tiny pot to her, “and that is why your healer asked me to bring this to you. I believe that it is a mixture that includes embrium, meant to help ease your breathing. She said to simply open the lid and inhale slowly whenever you need it.”

Verana took the pot and nodded gratefully, “Thank you so much, Mother Giselle.”

“Of course,” the priestess smiled again and perched on the edge of the bed. “Sometimes it is the small things that aid us the most through troubled times. And no doubt this sickness troubles you greatly, more than just your physical suffering. I can see it on your face.”

Verana sighed, careful not to breathe in Mother Giselle’s direction. “I can’t afford this lost time.  I should be doing work for the Inquisition, but I can’t because I can’t _think_.” She rubbed a temple with one finger, “It’s driving me crazy. There are so many things that need to be done…”

“And yet,” Giselle cocked her head at Verana, “none of it is more important than your recovery, yes?” When the Inquisitor gave her a quizzical look in response, she continued, “We expect so much from you. Too much. More than one person should ever be expected to contend with. But the Maker has a way of reminding us that we are all human, regardless of the responsibilities that have been put upon our shoulders. It causes us to refocus on the truly important things…and right now, the most important thing is your health. Without you, there is no Inquisition. And so, this time dedicated to naught but your well-being _is_ working for the Inquisition, is it not?”

Verana met the priestess’s soft brown gaze and was silent for a moment, absorbing her words. There were times when she did not agree with Mother Giselle, but over the months she had known her, Verana had come to respect her a great deal. She understood what Giselle meant, and she appreciated her words.

“Thank you, Revered Mother,” she replied quietly, smiling in response to Giselle’s.

The priestess merely nodded, “Of course, my Lady Inquisitor.” At that, she rose from the bed and turned to depart. “I shall pray that the Maker grants you the fortitude to return to full health quickly.”

Once Giselle had left her chambers, Verana tentatively opened the lid of the pot and brought it under her nose, breathing deeply. Almost immediately, her head began to clear, and relief flooded her. Leaning back heavily on her pillows, she let her head fall back and closed her hot, irritated eyes. Just this small bit of respite improved her mood greatly. She would have to remember to thank the healer personally when she was better.

A few hours later, her chamber door opened again, and her guest surprised her once more. This time it was Iron Bull, holding a small tray with various items on top. He grinned broadly at her as he rounded the top of the stairs, and he carefully set the tray on her bedside table as he greeted her, “Hey, Boss. How’s it going?”

“Absolutely wonderful, Bull,” she answered, tossing her handkerchief in the air.

He chuckled, “With a façade like that, you’d make a fine Ben-Hassrath.”

“Yes, and you’re a candidate for the Sunburst Throne.”

That caused the qunari to laugh heartily, and she found herself joining in briefly before he recovered and gestured to the tray, “Brought you a few things I hope will help.” He then squinted his one eye. “Aww, crap, I sound like Cole. The kid’s rubbing off on me.”

She glanced at the tray, “What is it?”

“Well,” he pointed at each item in turn, “ _That’s_ a tureen of chicken soup Cole insisted Cook make for you. _That’s_ a little pack of something Sera slipped onto the thing while I was heading into the great hall. And _that_ is a bottle of whiskey in case you want to put yourself out of your misery.”

She snorted, “And I’m guessing that last one was your idea.”

Iron Bull grinned, “Of course. When all else fails, turn to _maraas-lok_.” He then clapped her on the arm, surprisingly gently, and added, “I’ll leave you to it. Get well soon, Boss. We still got prey to hunt. My muscles are already starting to atrophy.”

“We’ll look for a dragon as soon as I get better, Bull. To celebrate,” she called after him as he descended the stairs.

“You’re the _best_ , Boss.”

Chuckling to herself, she took the packet that he said Sera had sent and carefully opened it. Inside the loosely-tied piece of burlap was three oddly-shaped cookies, overloaded with bits of chocolate, alongside a note. Setting the cookies in her lap and taking the parchment, she unfolded it and read Sera’s scrawling hand:

_Nothing gets you better sooner than Jenny cookies._

_And this:_

Below her words, Sera had scrawled a crude doodle that consisted of two stick figures. One Verana identified as herself by the scribbles that indicated black hair, and the other she could only assume was Cullen because of the massive ruff around the figure’s neck. Sera had attempted to draw Verana kissing the Commander, judging from the squiggly hearts everywhere, but it looked more like she was trying to bite off his nose.

“What’s that?”

“ _Agh!_ ”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. There stood the Commander himself, his expression shifting from one of mild curiosity to that of slightly bewildered amusement as her wide eyes met his.

“Oh! Cullen!” she said as she took a few breaths to calm herself. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You must not have heard me. Bull let me in while he was leaving.”

She nodded in understanding, gesturing with the parchment in hand. “I suppose I was too engrossed in trying to interpret Sera’s lovely note.”

He cocked his head, “What does it say?”

Grinning wickedly, she wordlessly handed the note to him. A sense of wicked glee filled her as she watched his brow furrow, and then rise, his amber eyes widening and then closing in exasperation. He tossed the note on her bed and shook his head. “Maker’s breath...”

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It’s… _something_. It looks like you’re trying to take a bite out of my nose.”

She chuckled, “I think she was trying to draw us kissing.”

“That would be much more preferable than biting my nose.”

“Maybe you should bite off _my_ nose so I can’t feel it anymore,” she grumbled, rubbing the sides of it with one hand.

He sat on the edge of the bed, taking her other hand in his gloved ones. “And mar that lovely face of yours? Never. I’m afraid you’ll just have to suffer through the sniffles for a few more days, my lady.”

“‘Lovely’?” she scoffed, flopping back against the pillows, “I look _hideous_. My face is puffy, my nose is red, my eyes are red, my lips are scaly, my hair is a mess…”

“…and you’re still beautiful.”

She raised her head again, lifting one skeptical brow at him. All she got in return was an expression of pure sincerity, written on his face with the gentlest look in his eyes and the softest of smiles pulling at his lips. It was a look that made her forget to breathe…forget she had problems breathing in the first place…

She swallowed, “I would kiss you if I didn’t have to worry about making you sick, too.”

He hummed, “I suppose we’ll have to settle for this, then.”

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing them to her knuckles in a light caress – an act that made her red face even redder, but lifted a world of weight from her heart.

Sera was right about one thing – Cullen did make everything better.


End file.
